More
heroes we always knew about, but have more reason than ever to honor.

Email from Jeanne, a New York Police Officer:

I was wrong-I'm
not working 13 hour tours -- I'm doing 16-17 hour days. When I get home,
I'm so, so, tired, but I can't really sleep, you know? I expect I'll
crash eventually. Meanwhile, we're all getting by on 5 hours a night.

Friends, the pictures
don't begin to show the tragedy. They show the devastation, but they
can't convey the vast, all-encompassing horror. At 4 AM, the worklights
make an eerie brightness over a still smoking wasteland. Imagine a war
movie- carnage everywhere. Now, magnify that by 1000, and immerse yourself
in it. Add the smells- jet fuel, and dust and garbage and smoke and
burning flesh and rotting bodies. Smell it so much you can taste it.

Now hear it-hear
the cranes and backhoes and engines and generators and people talking.
Worse, add the sounds you THINK you hear-- the cries for help that you're
sure came from over there-or is it over there? That way? You don't just
see the big things, either. You don't just see the massive gap in the
skyline you grew up with. You see a haze in the air- a haze that makes
your eyes sting, your throat choke, and your skin itch. You see enormous
chunks of steel, and concrete and glass. You see cars upside down, inside
out, 30 feet up on a pile of rubble. You see clothing and shoes and
vendor's carts and paper, paper everywhere. And
you see bodies. And parts of bodies.

More than your other
senses, though, you FEEL the pain and terror. You feel the grit in your
eyes, despite your goggles. You feel the uneven world below your feet.
You feel the ache in your bones from lifting stones, only to find nothing
underneath. You feel the scrapes and bruises. You feel tired, but if
they didn't make you stop, you wouldn't until it was all done. You feel
the despair as you realize the people you've found are nowhere near
the 10,000 missing. You feel nauseous, all the time. You feel incredible
frustration, because in your mind, you could be directing the rescue
efforts better, and getting more done.

You feel the tears
always in the back of your eyes, because your friends and so many others
are dead. And then you feel anger. Rage. Fury. And deep sorrow. Guilt.
Grief. Gratitude. And often, strangely, pride. For your country, your
city, your co-workers, your friends.

If we
have chosen copyrighted images in our effort to support and comfort
our visitors, we request the patience and understanding of those who
took them. If you will contact us at [email protected]
we will see that they are removed.